


Make a Decision

by OverMyFreckledBody



Series: Stuck with Me (Sometimes Quite Literally) [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (its the creepy episodes that last with me), A Semi-Awkward Massage, Alternate Universe - X-Files Fusion, Loss of Trust, M/M, Mulder Marco, Scully Jean, Touching, Touchy-Feely, Unresolved Emotional Tension, and its revival? i guess?, and who can blame him?, bc he doesnt want to get turned into a worm host, but with more touching yes yes, jean cant talk about how hes feeling, lots of, lowkey emotional fluff, ppl are gonna think they just banged, sure thats a good way to sum that up, the examination scene, us against the world kind of thing going on, yes hello again this time from episode seven (ice)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone on the base is infected by some kind of ice worm from space, and though everyone else wants to believe it's Agent Bodt, Jean knows it can't be. </p><p>And somehow, to prove it, he gets to touch Bodt's back - more so than really necessary, actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Decision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Achrya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/gifts).



> Gift for Acharya because I know you love the AU.
> 
> I did one based on the aftermath of "Squeeze" if you want to [read that here. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6735988)
> 
> It's the creepy ones I write about, ofc. They're what sticks. And like, it was really "Eve" that kept me up so I started writing the first half of this, but fuck if I'm gonna write about that shit. No way.
> 
> So, if you want to watch "Ice", [here is a link](http://putlocker.is/watch-the-x-files-tvshow-season-1-episode-7-online-free-putlocker.html), and the scene it's based off of is at about 38:20. Also, no music today, since I was mostly just writing as I watched and rewinded and switching between that and music is annoying.

He barely has the door unlocked before he’s pressing his hand against it, keeping it still, and staring at the other two. “I’m going to talk to him first.” He keeps his voice steady and firm, looking them straight in the eye, one after the other. It isn’t an option and he will argue about it if he has to. He knows it isn’t Bodt that’s infected, he just does. And that’s the thought that if he knew the parasite wasn’t strictly hormonal, he would have assumed that it was he, himself, that had a bug under his skin. “It’s going to be voluntary.”

 

                He knows that if Bodt was really infected, it wouldn’t be, but he’s not, and that’s what matters.

 

                Unsurprisingly, they don’t like what he’s suggesting. On the flip side, they know well enough not to fight him about it. He’s proud of himself and the steely glare he’s been practicing on Bodt, that it’s enough to let him go in alone, to let him convince Bodt that he still trusts him and that _he_ should still trust him back. It has to be the glare – they wouldn’t know that he’s hidden Bodt’s back up gun, right?

 

                (No, they would have fought him about that too. Jean wonders what they think they did with Bodt’s backup gun. He’s more obvious about his paranoia, so it should be a pretty logical thought to assume he has more guns than Jean himself does.)

 

                “I’m going to be _sure_ ,” he tells them, taking in their shaky breaths and resigned nods. “If anything happens, you come inside and I’ll even _help_ you. But for now,” easing his grip on the door, he makes a motion at it with his head, “I have to go in alone. For him.”

 

                Bodt is already up, squinting, but not covering his eyes when the door shuts behind Jean, enclosing them in darkness. Why is it so dark? Bodt’s been sitting under the goddamn light string, why hasn’t he been using it? As he reaches and tugs on it, light flooding the room, Bodt blinks up at him and asks in a breathless tone, something that worries Jean more than anything else, “Is it just you?”

 

                “It’s just me,” he answers back, letting Bodt get used to the light and resisting the urge to pull him into a hug. It isn’t even that there’s a chance – smaller than the rest of them, not by scientific and logical standards, of course, but by his knowledge – that Bodt might be infected, but that it just isn’t the time. And despite their subtle arm touches, or ear whisperings, or cuddles because of the things that go bump in the night, or whatever else, they don’t _hug_. Not really.

 

                He licks his lips and Jean glances away, at the boxes scattered around, at the jacket thrown on the ground, which Bodt was obviously sleeping on, and feels a pang in his gut. “It’s not me,” he murmurs, as if he still needs to try to convince Jean, he never did, and Jean steals a look over his shoulder at the locked door.

 

                He wants to tell Bodt that he knows, that he always knew, but instead he presses a hand back against the door, fingers flat, as if to brace himself, even if it pushes him farther from it. “Nobody else is dead. It’s been quiet since you’ve been locked up.” He avoids using the phrase _since we locked you up_ even if it’s true and Bodt _knows_ , and it isn’t quiet. They all still fight – but at least no one else is dead.

 

                Yet.

 

                Bodt says nothing, just stares at him. He stares at him with that look that he sometimes gives to the people they’re interrogating, and Jean’s always wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that stare. Unknowing of it would probably be fine, but this; knowing that Bodt is just trying to read him, get an understanding of what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, what he’s about to say is unnerving. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

 

                He turns his head away and focuses on ignoring it, maybe on waiting for Bodt to say something in return. He’s not being a good conversation partner, not with him just staring at Jean, and not with the way he makes him feel like he’s posing. There’s not a lot of talking going on, with Jean feeling like he’s some kind of pin-up and Bodt’s just blinking at him.

 

                Jean decides to throw some news at him, hoping it would spark him into doing something with his mouth.

 

                Or, something less… something not down that path.

 

                “We’ve found a way to kill it.” He turns back to face Bodt with this, trying his best to hold down his resolve, and succeeding when he notices just how Marco’s eyes widen at him. Stepping forward, Bodt is careful enough to not trip over the mess on the floor, but he doesn’t take his eyes away, not for a second. He keeps his hands to himself, but Jean still looks at them anyway. “The worms, they’re-” he’s about to explain all of it and while he knows Bodt would appreciate the science of it, as he always does, he knows they don’t have that kind of time. He sends another glance over his shoulder as if the others can hear him and pushes off the door, looking up at Bodt. “Putting a second worm inside the host will kill them both.”

 

                It takes him two seconds to understand where Jean is going with this and to make the move to step back, his face doing that thing where it wants to close off, but he’s trying to seem friendly, like someone a victim or suspect can talk to. It makes Jean want to throw up; the longer they talk and he can’t tell Bodt that he _does_ trust him and that he _knows_ it isn’t him, the more Bodt treats him like anything but his partner and his friend.

 

                “Bodt-” he starts, before getting cut off, by a simple shake of a head.

 

                “I’m not infected,” he whispers, and the way he just keeps saying that reminds Jean of a child. _I’m not sick. I’m not sick. I can go to school today, I’m fine._ He clears his throat, as if noticing that Jean’s mind had trailed off slightly and he wanted to keep his attention. “If you put one of those inside me, I will be and I’ll die.”

 

                _I know_. “You might not,” Jean hums, but pushes his hand back against the door at the shock that floods through Bodt’s eyes before he completely closes himself off. That’s… that’s right. Bodt isn’t _easy_ to read; he’s always just been open with Jean, allowing him to see and know what he’s feeling at all times. It was a choice, it was trust, and now it’s gone. Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to continue. “Nobody else has died, so the worm doesn’t kill. It just makes _you_ kill, remember?”

 

                Bodt stares at the floor for a moment, taking in Jean’s words, considering them as he worries his lip. While he’s distracted, Jean takes a moment to make his decision on telling him – everything. Tell him that he knows he’s not infected, that he doesn’t think it’s either of them, that he can’t think and the lack of sleep is making him worry even more. As he settles on his decision, he steps even closer and rests his hand on Bodt’s arm. Swallowing as Bodt looks down at him, a hint of fondess clouding his gaze, Jean stares back up at him and his eyes flit to the door for the last time. It’s what cements his choice.

 

                “If you’re not infected,” he starts slowly, and Bodt’s mouth falls open as his eyes run over Jean’s face, ready for his words. It’s an effort to hold his gaze, but it’s something he’s trained on, so he knows how to do it. “You should have let me check you.”

 

                Bodt’s face falls instantly, crumpling up and frowning. Jean’s heart lurches in his chest, it wasn’t what he planned on saying, and it’s obvious that it wasn’t what Bodt was hoping to hear. It was the best move of the moment, however, and Jean isn’t willing to risk either of them living if he can, even if it means bruising their trust and partnership for the moment. Bodt leans farther from him, but doesn’t step away. “All of you had weapons, Kirschtein-”

 

                Jean interrupts him, but thankfully he again doesn’t say what he thinks he’s going to. It isn’t _you know I wouldn’t have shot you_ , but instead it’s taking the hand that’s laying on his arm and turning it into a loose grip around his elbow as he leans closer and up, off the tips of his toes, closer to his face. “If you’re not infected,” he repeats, just like before, but Bodt’s lips only thin out this time. “You’ll let me check you now.”

 

                When Bodt doesn’t say anything, just staring at him again, he adds, quietly, “They aren’t here, and I’m without a weapon. What’s stopping you?”

 

                That’s enough for Bodt, who, though with furrowed brows, spins around and steps back, pulling his cotton shirt over his head. Jean refrains from stating that he didn’t need his shirt off to check his _neck_ , and ambles closer, eyes roving over the stretch of skin over developed muscle, and the broad shoulders he could easily rest a palm over on each blade. As soon as his fingers touch the heated skin, by the nape of his neck, pressing and checking, Bodt breathes out, “I don’t trust them.”

 

                He steadies himself with a hand on Bodt’s hip, and he has to keep stretching on his toes to see, because the light is so shot in here, and Bodt is so _tall_. His other hand massages into his bronzed skin, and he’s probably seen enough to know that there isn’t a worm there, but he already knew that, so he’s just touching to touch and pretend he’s looking. “I don’t either.” He keeps his voice soft, but the air it’s made of ghosts over Bodt’s shoulder and he watches as it twitches before he steps back, arms falling to his sides.

 

                He doesn’t watch as Bodt puts his shirt back on, instead slowly turning back to the door, hoping that his silence is enough to tell him that he trusts and he knows, and everything he’s been wanting to say before. As he lifts a fist to knock on the door and tell him that he’s ready to come out, he takes in a startled gasp when he gets jerked back by a hand on his shoulder. Bodt presses the backs of two fingers lightly against his jaw, silently telling him _it’s just me_ , before sliding them down his sides and bunching up an inch of the bottom of his shirt.

 

                He doesn’t tell Bodt that he only needs to see the back of his neck and taking off his whole shirt is unnecessary.

 

                Instead, he shivers when it’s gone, dropped into his palms, and bites his lip when Bodt’s warm hands press from the bottom of his back to the top, and his fingers dig in around the nape of his neck. He breathes out through his nose and tilts his head down, against the door, and Bodt steps closer; likely to see better in the dim lighting. As he does, his knee bumps against the back of Jean’s own, but he doesn’t move it, and they stay there, both touching, until Bodt pulls back, apparently satisfied with his own checkup.

 

                While Jean puts his own shirt back on, pointedly staring at the door as he does so, he hears Bodt shuffle around behind him, probably picking up his jacket. He waits until he’s done moving before he knocks, but when Bodt’s finally still, his hand has slipped across Jean’s lower back, as if wanting to be put there, but not, and he’s whispered, “Don’t scare me like that, Kirschetin.”

 

                At least Bodt knew now, what he was trying to say.

 

                When the door opens and more light floods into the room, Jean’s standing closer to Bodt than the two others, back to him, and it’s clear that he’s not going to let them give Bodt the worm. He just hopes that the pink that tints the tops of his cheeks is either not easy to see, or that they don’t think it’s some kind of variable in his outcome.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my [snk/writing blog](http://overmyfreckledbody.tumblr.com/)! This is [Acharya's](http://acharyadiako.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> This is a [link to the rebloggable version of this fic](http://overmyfreckledbody.tumblr.com/post/143906787323/i-wrote-more-x-files-jeanmarco-au-because-i-was)! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd really appreciate it if you left a comment and/or a kudos!


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